Not Even a Papercut
by Noxbait
Summary: Season 6, post-French Mistake. For Sylvia37. Two-shot. There are 52 weeks in a year and, according to Dean's calculations, fourteen and a half weeks of boring. This is one of those weeks. Humor, brotherly bonding, and not a single Winchester harmed along the way. Two-shot. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**So this story is the result of my New Years resolution to write happier stuff...and a challenge issued by Sylvia37 who thought hell would freeze over before I wrote a happy story. Well. Here is that story. :)**

 **100% no hurt Winchesters. No angst. Just 100% brotherly fluff and fun. And after the season finale, I think we all need this.**

 **For Sylvia37 who requested the story be set Season 6, post-French Mistake. This is a two-shot.**

* * *

 ** _Not Even a Papercut_**

 ** _Thursday morning_**

"It was a dark and stormy night."

"Dean."

"Thunder sound effects," Dean continued narrating the movie, filling in for the fact there was no sound. "Boom! Rumble rumble BOOM!"

"Dean."

"Lightnin' splits the sky...oh look! Oh look! The monster emerges. More thunder sound effects. Boom! Rumble rumble boom!"

"Dean."

Another particularly loud _boom rumble rumble boom_ finally pushed Sam over the edge. Lowering the book he'd been unsuccessfully attempting to read, he looked for something to throw at his brother that would hurt. Not maim, necessarily, but definitely hurt. He wasn't throwing his book because he'd never get it back and the wad of fast food wrappers next to him wouldn't inflict any pain.

About to pitch his shoe at his brother's head, Sam paused when Dean dramatically flopped backwards on the other bed sending candy wrappers scattering everywhere. He groaned and pressed one hand over his eyes while his other hand was going through what remained of the candy wrappers. Probably looking for one with a candy still in it.

Sam had to smile at the pathetic picture his brother made.

 _At least he's quiet now,_ he thought, returning to his book.

"Sammy."

 _Well, shit._

"Saaammmy."

Sighing, Sam lowered the book again and asked, "What?"

"Tell me you found us a case."

Sam laughed. "And how exactly am I supposed to do that without wi-fi?"

"Go find one of those hippy coffee cafes you love."

"I think _hipster_ is the word you're looking for and I don't love them. If I have to, I'll use their wi-fi but I'd rather avoid them. We don't exactly fit with that crowd, in case you hadn't noticed."

"I fit with any crowd. You're the one who's too tall."

Sam rolled his eyes. What his height had to do with anything, he didn't know but he wasn't going to pursue the topic because, in the mood Dean was in, they'd be arguing about it until tomorrow. He returned his attention to the book even though he already knew he wasn't going to be finishing it anytime soon. Maybe he should have left Dean alone. If he was providing energetic narration for the movie, he wasn't as irritating.

"Boom!"

Then again, maybe not. Sam cringed as Dean pushed himself upright and continued with the boom rumble soundtrack. It was loud. It was annoying. Of course, the fact the tv had no sound was also annoying.

But it wasn't loud.

"Dean, seriously. Go take a walk. Go get food. Go….anywhere."

Dean flopped back on the bed and rolled over until he was resting his chin on his hands and staring at Sam with narrowed eyes. He asked, "Am I annoying you, little brother?"

"Hell yes."

Dean's eyebrows went up, but there was amusement in his eyes that told Sam he'd just made a very, very, _very,_ critical mistake. Dean pushed himself up and sat on the edge of the bed. "What're you reading anyway? You've been awfully quiet."

"One of us needs to be." Sam tried to casually keep the book away from his brother's eyes.

"I can't help it the tv is boring without sound," Dean said, craning his neck. "What are you reading?"

Sam closed the book and considered sitting on it. He let it rest against his left hip, as far from Dean's prying eyes as he could. Looking his brother straight in the eyes, Sam said, "You know what? Let's go do the laundry. We've been putting it off and right now we have nothing better to do."

Dean was still staring at him with narrowed eyes. Obviously he wanted to know about the book. For a moment, Sam thought he'd lost the battle, then Dean nodded. "Ok. Let's do laundry."

Watching in surprise as Dean got up and started gathering the piles of clothes, Sam counted his blessings that, as usual, _Dean bored_ was _Dean distractible_. When Dean went into the bathroom, Sam slid off the bed and shoved the book between the mattress and the box springs then hurried to grab his own laundry. He was halfway out the door by the time Dean was back.

"Come on. Earlier the better."

Dean glared at him, looked around the room, then huffed and followed him to the car. "It's Thursday at ten am, Sam. Every housewife in town is gonna be at the laundromat."

Sam just smiled as they got into the car. "And what do housewives like to watch?"

"Stupid soap operas," Dean muttered, trying so hard to not look eager even as he pressed the accelerator and sped the two blocks to the laundromat.

Once they were inside, Dean took one assessing glance at the nearly deserted room and headed straight to the back. The television, predictably, was on a soap opera. Sam rolled his eyes and went to start the laundry while Dean stood there like an idiot and caught up on whatever drama he'd missed.

Taking his own assessing peek around the room, Sam was mildly surprised to find only three other people doing laundry. Well, one other person doing laundry. A middle-aged woman was focusing on loading three dryers across from him. A guy who could've been that woman's father was sleeping in a chair in the corner, head leaned up against the washing machine presumably containing his load.

The only other person was a twenty something girl with perfect teeth and blonde curls. She apparently was as into the soap as Dean was and they were standing shoulder to shoulder chatting about it. Sam ignored them both, and the soap opera, and just grabbed his brother's clothes and started another load.

Once he'd finished, he straightened and found Dean and the blonde sitting next to each other, engrossed in the show. Sam hovered for a moment. Maybe they'd hook up and Sam would have a peaceful evening to himself. She was cute enough and obviously shared a common interest with his brother. Something that was not always true of Dean's one night stands.

 _Well other than the one_ specific _common interest._

Sam smiled at the middle-aged lady as he walked to the door.

* * *

Dean had been so engrossed in the drama on screen that it took him a moment to realize the beeping noise he was hearing wasn't stopping. Turning from the television, he saw that the place was almost deserted. The blonde had disappeared after the first episode ended. Apparently she'd already finished her laundry but couldn't leave until she found out if Drew had murdered Kelly's father or fathered her baby. It had surprised neither of them to discover he'd done both.

Straightening up, he stretched his shoulders and headed for the beeping washing machine. The old guy who had been sleeping next to his washing machine when they'd arrived was now sleeping next to a dryer. Dean shook his head and started transferring their clothes into a couple dryers. He'd finished the task before it registered that he was missing something.

"Sam?" He called out, taking another peek around the room.

Except for the napping guy and him, it was empty. Shrugging, he went back to the chair conveniently located in front of the television. Dean hoped Sam's absence meant he'd gone for coffee or a snack. Or both. He almost texted him, then decided not to bother. Yet, anyway.

He couldn't help but smile remembering the first time Sam had disappeared at a laundromat. Dad had still been doing the laundry at that point and Sam had been seven and lured out the front door by the sight of a puppy being walked down the street by a woman whose diamond necklace was worth more money than they would ever hope to see.

Dean had been engrossed in his comic book while Dad had been working on the laundry and attempting to occupy Sam by having him go round and round the room counting the washing machines and dryers. Smart as Sam was, practicing his numbers just hadn't been as enticing as the sight of a fluffy puppy.

Dad had handled it better than Dean had expected. Of course, it hadn't been the first time Sam had gotten distracted and wandered away from them, so they'd both had some practice in not freaking out when they realized they were short one Winchester. Once they'd covered the interior of the laundromat and found it empty, they'd gone straight out the front door and looked in opposite directions then followed the sound of barking and laughing.

Sam had made fast friends with the rich woman and her fluffy Pomeranian. Dean had expected the worst, but Dad hadn't yelled or anything. He'd merely shaken his head, laughed at the sight of the energetic fluffball pouncing all over Sam and carried on a brief, friendly chat with the lady. Dean had stood back because, call him crazy, but something that looked like a faceless cotton ball, and was that hyper, was not something he wanted anything to do with.

It might have been because Dad had handled the situation well and not started an argument or maybe it had just been a perfect day. Either way, Sam hadn't fussed when Dad had announced they needed to get back to the laundry. He'd patted the puppy on the head and trotted back with them to the laundromat while chattering endlessly about how much he needed a puppy.

By the time their laundry was finished, Sam had drawn no less than ten pictures of the puffball and yapped the entire time. Walking back to the motel they were staying in, Dad had finally lost what had, at this early stage in their lives, been considerable patience.

He'd bribed Sam with ice cream if he would shut up about the dog.

Dean had sat there on the bed next to his dad and held his breath while Sam stared at them both and considered the offer. When Sam agreed, Dean and his father had shared a huge sigh of relief. Unfortunately, Dad really should have applied more specific terms to the deal because the ice cream bribe lasted until the next day when they wound up driving eight hours straight while listening to all the reasons Sam really, really, _really,_ needed a puppy.

To this day, Dean truly believed that the reason the last two hours of their trip to Bobby's had been mercifully silent was because Dad had somehow snuck a generous dose of Benadryl into Sam's juicebox. Even if he'd been forced to endure Sam drooling on his jeans those last two hours, the blessed silence had been worth it.

Something bounced off the side of his head, drawing him back to the present. Dean leaned down to pick up the bag of M&Ms. "You've been waiting all day to throw something at my head, haven't you?"

"You're welcome."

Dean glared at his brother as Sam sat down next to him. "Where'd you go?"

Sam shook his own bag of candy dramatically in front of Dean's face.

"And you didn't bring coffee?"

"There wasn't a _hippy_ coffee shop."

"There's a truck stop."

"Where do you think I got the candy?"

Dean's jaw dropped. "And yet...no coffee?"

"Exactly." Sam popped a handful of candy into his mouth, realized he was being glared at and shrugged. "They were out."

"Out of coffee?"

"Yeah. You think I walked all the way to the truck stop just to get you a bag of M&Ms?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "The truck stop is _next door._ But seriously. No coffee?"

"No coffee."

"What is wrong with this town?" Dean groused, staring back up at the tv and pouring a handful of M&Ms into his mouth.

"You wanna leave?"

"No coffee. Tv without sound. No wi-fi. Yes, I wanna leave."

Sam checked his watch. "Check out is in like half an hour."

"Where're we gonna go?"

"I don't know. Someplace with wi-fi, sound and coffee I guess." Sam shrugged. "Could go back to Bobby's."

Dean considered the thought. They'd left after repairing the front window and putting the room back together after Balthazar had used them as distractions and thrown them through it. A simple haunting in Georgia had gone off without a hitch and now they were in limbo.

Dean hated being in limbo.

He shook out the last of the M&Ms and asked, "Think he's still pissed at us?"

"He wasn't pissed at us."

"You didn't hear him chewing us out about the mess?" Dean asked incredulously.

"Well yeah. But he wasn't mad at us. It wasn't our fault and we cleaned it up."

Dean smiled as he heard the confidence in Sam's voice fade away.

"It wasn't our fault," Sam added for good measure before slouching down in his seat and finishing his own bag of candy.

"Dude, you don't have to convince me." Dean shuddered, thinking back to the surreal experience of landing in an alternate reality. "That had to be one of the weirdest things ever right? I mean, we're pretty up close and personal with weird but still-"

"Yeah, I think an alternate world where we're rich is pretty weird."

Dean shook his head and cast his brother a disbelieving look. "That's what you found weird? That we were rich? How about the fact our lives were on a tv show? Our lives _were_ a tv show."

Sam nodded. "It was weird."

"It was weird."

"Weirder than going back in time and meeting our parents."

Dean had to agree. "Weirder than that thing with the fairies."

"I dunno, man. The fairies were pretty weird."

"Weirder than the time I got all old 'cuz of a poker game?" Dean grinned.

"Weirder than that, but not as weird as that time Paris Hilton kicked your ass." Sam smiled back. "Or that time you got scared of making a left turn."

"Shut up." Dean elbowed his brother and turned back to the tv. He muttered, "Was ghost sickness. Not my fault either."

Sam just laughed.

* * *

"So how many hunts you think we do in a year?"

"What?" Sam looked over at his brother.

"How many? Just a guess."

"I don't know." Sam shrugged, returning his attention to the road. It was just them as far as he could see and, with the windows down and the sun out, it was as close to a perfect day as Sam could imagine. "Twenty-ish?"

Dean nodded, then took a sip of his coffee, settling back in the passenger seat. They'd decided to bail town in search of a hunt. Or coffee at least. Coffee they'd found. Free wi-fi had been unobtainable which left them back on the road.

"Maybe thirty tops."

Sam laughed and stared at his brother again. "What is it with this urge to figure out how many hunts we do in a year? We suddenly need to report them on our tax forms?"

"I'm bored."

"You're bored." Sam rolled his eyes at the plaintive whine in his brother's voice. "You're bored so you decided to count hunts?"

Dean shook his head, shifting in the seat. "No. I'm just trying to figure out how many days in a year are like this one."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Like this one?"

"Yeah. Boring."

"It's not boring."

"How is it not boring?"

"Just because you aren't shooting at something doesn't mean the day is boring."

"You don't think today is boring?"

Sam shook his head. "It's just...ordinary."

"Yeah. Boring."

"Dean, the weather's nice. We made it through the last hunt without either of us getting so much as a scratch. Not even a papercut." Sam waved a hand forward. "The road is ours. Right now no one and nothing is after us. I don't think it's boring. I think it's kinda nice for a change."

"I guess. But really." Dean didn't seem ready to give up the topic so easily. "Think about it. If we do like twenty-five hunts a year, say each one takes about a week give or take, right?"

"Seems about right," Sam said, frowning as he found himself sucked into his brother's weird math problem. "So that leaves like twenty-seven weeks."

"Right. And let's say like half of the hunts take a week to recover from depending on injuries received," Dean said, tapping his fingers on the edge of the door, "that leaves what-"

"Fourteen and a half weeks," Sam supplied.

Dean nodded. "Exactly. Fourteen and a half weeks. Of boring."

Sam laughed. "Dude. We need to get you a hobby."

As soon as he said it, Sam regretted it.

"Speaking of hobbies," Dean said sounding far too eager to pursue this topic. "Did you remember your book?"

Sam tried to play dumb. "Book?"

"Yeah. The one you were reading this morning."

"Oh that. Yeah. Uh. I don't know. It wasn't important."

"I could drive. We can switch. Give you time to get back to it."

Sam settled more comfortably behind the wheel and tightened his grip. "Nah. It's fine. I'm good."

"So you don't get bored?"

 _Back to that._ Sam was just relieved Dean was letting go of the topic of the book. He gave a moment's thought to Dean's question then said, "Not really. No."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "Seriously? You don't get bored?"

"Sure sometimes things are a little slow, but I don't get bored."

"You always were able to amuse yourself," Dean said with a shrug.

"I kind of had to, Dean. You want to do some math? Let's try to calculate how much time I spent in that back seat." Sam waved a hand behind him. He laughed and shook his head. "I probably spent ten _years_ of my life back there."

The car fell silent for a moment, then Dean said, "Yeah. You probably did."

Sam shot him a quick glance, sensing the change in Dean's mood. "Hey, I wasn't...I didn't mean-"

"No, no, I get it," Dean said, with a half-smile. "You shouldn't have had to grow up in the backseat of a car, Sammy."

" _Neither_ of us should've had to grow up in a car, Dean. Front or back seat." Sam considered his words and their childhood, then said, "But you know what? A lot of people have it worse. Was it ideal? Absolutely not. Do I think Dad would have done it differently if he could have? Yeah, I do. But we were together and I think that made up for a lot. Still does."

He spared his brother a quick peek and waited for the teasing to start.

Instead, Dean said, "Yeah. It does."

* * *

 ** _Thursday afternoon_**

"Are you serious?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"Uh...because...it's not really-" Sam broke off, staring out the front window and Dean could

swear he looked scared.

"Not really our thing?"

"Uh, yeah. Not at all."

Dean followed his gaze and nodded. "Yeah well I need to stretch my legs and I'm bored."

Sam snorted, but got out of the car when Dean moved. "I told you to pull over at that rest stop. There was a walking trail and -"

"I'm not taking a nature hike with you. I hate nature."

"You also hate crowds and malls," Sam said, waving a hand pointedly.

Dean frowned, pulling the door open. "Have we ever even been in a mall?"

Sam shrugged, grabbing the door as Dean walked inside. "We must have been at some point. Right?"

They both froze once they'd taken a few steps inside.

"Wow."

"Nature sounding better now, eh?" Sam smiled although his tone sounded about as wary as Dean was feeling.

And Dean almost said yes. But then he smelled something wonderful and, hey, nature didn't offer cinnamon sprinkled pretzel bites.

"Where are you-"

"Food, Sammy. Try to keep up." Dean glanced over his shoulder, identified that his brother was indeed keeping up, then had his billfold out before he'd even reached the line for the pretzel stand.

"Seriously? We ate lunch like-"

"Like half an hour ago. This is dessert."

Sam smacked him on the shoulder. "Stop interrupting me."

"Stop saying dumb things." Dean looked up at the menu. "You want a pretzel or something?"

"We just ate."

"So you're not hungry?"

"A pretzel doesn't sound too bad, though," Sam said, frowning up at the menu. "They have pizza pretzels."

The line moved forward and Dean looked eagerly at the menu. "Pizza pretzel? That sounds amazing."

"Or the cinnamon ones."

"See, those were what I was thinking. Like pretzels but-"

"Dessert," they said at the same time.

Dean grinned. "Exactly. Yes?"

"Yes. And get the icing."

"The what?" Dean looked up at the menu.

"It's right there."

"Dude, it's like another dollar for the icing." Dean rolled his eyes. "That's stupid."

A dollar bill appeared in front of his eyes. "I want icing."

"Fine, fine," Dean said, snatching the dollar from Sam's hand. Stepping up to the counter,

Dean placed their order and five short minutes later they were sitting down at a table with a cup of warm pretzel bites.

"If you hadn't insisted on icing, we could be walking while we eat this," Dean griped while Sam set out napkins.

"You have somewhere you need to be?" Sam asked mildly, reaching for the cup.

"Hands off." Dean slapped his hand away. "You are _not_ divvying them up like when we were kids."

"You mean _fairly_?" Sam asked, opening the icing.

"No I mean you pawing through everything we ever got and looking for the biggest pieces."

"I did not do that."

"You've touched every single chocolate chip cookie I've ever eaten in my entire life because you had to count the chocolate chips." Dean dumped out approximately half of the pretzel bites onto the napkin in front of his brother.

He kept his share in the cup and sat back with it held protectively close to his chest. Sam rolled his eyes, but Dean noticed he didn't deny that he hadn't counted all the chocolate chips.

They fell silent for a few minutes.

Sam, predictably, hogged most of the icing, but Dean didn't complain because he _had_ kept more of the pretzel bites for himself.

"So this was your plan," Sam said, crumpling the napkin as he looked around. "Where do you want to go?"

"No clue." Dean popped another pretzel bite into his mouth and joined his brother in surveying the mall. He waved a hand. "I think we can rule out that little shop, though."

Sam laughed. "Yeah. Pretty sure we don't need any candles."

Tossing the trash, Dean said, "Although I suppose we could upgrade-"

"Vanilla scented candles for summonings?"

"Or tropical flowers." Dean pointed as they walked past the window. "Look. We could imagine we're on a beach while we're summoning demons."

"I'm sure Bobby would kill us if we brought scented candles back."

Dean had to admit he was probably right. They paused as they reached the center of the mall. The place was too busy. Too crowded. Considering it was Thursday afternoon, Dean knew he wanted nothing to do with the place on a Friday night. Knowing they probably looked completely out of place, he shrugged and walked up to the mall directory. For a moment, they stood there studying their options.

"Well? You see anything-"

"There's a bookstore." Sam nodded to the right.

"Nerd." Dean rolled his eyes. "Alright, go browse. I'm going to that sporting good store. Look: it says it has a climbing wall."

Sam patted him on the back. "Go climb your mountain."

* * *

By the time Sam had finished at the bookstore and wandered into the sporting good store, Dean was still standing in line. Deciding it would be more entertaining to watch his brother than to look through the store, Sam found a place where he had a good view and settled back to enjoy the show. It took awhile, but finally Dean was getting rigged up to climb the rock wall.

Amused, Sam enjoyed watching his brother struggle up the wall only to fall backwards several times. The climbing gear caught him every time, but that didn't mean he didn't look panic-stricken each time he dropped.

He finally made it to the top and rang the bell.

Sam had to smile at the childlike enthusiasm in his brother's expression. It was rare these days to see Dean so at ease. He had the worries of the world on his shoulders and just catching a glimpse of joy on his face made Sam decide it was well worth the trip to the mall.

As he was descending, Dean caught sight of him and waved between them and then up to the bell. Sam shook his head and Dean called out, "Get in line, Sammy."

Sam shook his head again, but when Dean challenged that whoever won was off laundry duty for a month, the crowd around them laughed and Sam got in line. Not that he particularly cared if he got off laundry duty. If they were to be completely honest, he knew they both would admit they didn't mind doing the laundry. Sam liked it because it gave him time to get lost in his own thoughts while doing something mundane and monotonous. It was relaxing.

Dean liked it because he could catch up on his favorite soap operas.

"Bookstore too boring for you?" Dean asked, joining him in line behind the ten other people ahead of them.

"No. Just didn't see anything I really needed."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "Well considering you haven't finished that book you've been reading...what was the name of it again?"

Sam ignored him and motioned to the climbing wall. "You didn't exactly make good time. You really think you're going to beat me up that wall?"

"It was a practice run. Now I'm limbered up."

"Uh huh. So I should get a practice-"

"If you wanted a practice run, you should've shown up sooner." Dean grinned as they inched forward. "Now you're outta luck."

Sam rolled his eyes. Dean started chatting with a couple guys who were in front of them and Sam studied the wall and started to strategize. The closer they got, though, the taller the wall seemed and by the time he was next in line, he was regretting not having taken longer at the bookstore.

 _I should've gone back and looked at candles,_ Sam decided as they approached the wall.

Dean was practically giddy and Sam knew he wasn't hiding his apprehension from his brother. But when Dean advised the guy running the climbing wall that it was a race, the apprehension faded away and all that remained was the spirit of competition. They took their places and the guy counted down from three.

The first part of the climb wasn't difficult at all. Sam had a distinct advantage in his height and didn't fail to rub that in whenever Dean looked his way. But after awhile, the climbing became more of a challenge and the fact Dean had already scaled the wall began to lean the odds in his favor.

Neither of them spoke as they climbed, but they exchanged frequent glances as they gauged their progress. By the time they were about a third of the way up, Sam could feel his arms shaking. The hand holds were smaller and spaced further apart. He'd managed to avoid falling off the wall so far, but it was getting more and more challenging. Dean had done better this time and they were just about even.

Sam saw the gloating look in Dean's eyes as he inched upwards. Looking up, Sam could see the goal in sight. It had been a mistake, though, to let his focus stray because all of a sudden he was very, _very_ aware of how high the wall was. It hadn't seemed so high when he'd been watching from the distance. Now, however, it seemed to have grown.

"Giving up?" Dean panted from a few handholds above him. He was sweaty and grinning.

"No," Sam said, keeping his response short because even that one little word wobbled more than he wanted it to.

His fingers ached and his arms were shaking worse by the second and of all the times to develop an issue with heights-

"Little too high for ya, Sammy?" Dean asked, pulling himself upward. His movements were slowing down, but he was still making progress.

Sam hadn't managed to move ever since he'd looked up. He stared at his brother's left knee as it moved beyond him and told himself repeatedly not to look down. Looking up had been a bad idea. Looking down? Sam had a feeling it would be even worse.

Heart pounding, Sam refocused and reached up for the next handhold. Dean seemed to have paused to catch his breath and Sam knew this would be his only chance to regain first place. Keeping his eyes carefully on the handholds, he started climbing again.

Dean was struggling to reach the next handhold and had to climb down a bit in order to find a different path. Sam's smile was as shaky as the rest of him, but he enjoyed seeing Dean's annoyed expression as he realized he was in second place again. The annoyance turned to determination and Sam stopped smiling and started climbing like his life depended on it.

Heart pounding, Sam risked another glance up and saw the bell was almost within reach. Of course, so was his brother now. They were practically elbow to elbow and twenty some years of brotherly competition flared up as they climbed. It didn't matter that the prize was to not do something neither of them particularly minded doing.

What mattered was winning.

Sweat was trickling down his back and he was breathing hard, but he was almost there. Sam started to reach up, then caught movement to his right. Dean grinned as he stretched up for the last handhold.

And then he slipped.

Sam reacted without even thinking and caught Dean's wrist. He saw the surprise in Dean's eyes and heard an audible gasp from the crowd below. Gritting his teeth at the added weight, Sam struggled to hold onto his brother and the wall. He knew Dean wasn't in any danger, but reaching for him had been instinctual. Second nature.

Scrambling frantically, Dean managed to get his feet and free hand connected with three of the handholds and he regained his balance. When he nodded, Sam let go of his wrist.

For a moment, they both remained where they were, staring at each other, arms shaking and breaths rushing in and out. Sam almost expected a thank you, but something else glinted in Dean's eyes and Sam realized almost too late that Dean still intended to win. His brother's muscles tensed and a smile spread over his face as he started climbing again.

Sam used his height to his advantage again and stretched up enough that his fingers barely brushed the bell.

But it rang.

And that was what mattered.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello! So it was truly my intention to post this chapter Friday morning...however. lol. A friend got married this weekend and Friday morning I was (as per usual) running around like a crazy person because I was too lazy to get up early enough to not be running around like a crazy person. Sigh. Wedding was beautiful, had a lovely time with my "extended family" and just got home today.**

 **So here is chapter two! :D Thank you all for your reviews to ch1. I enjoyed reading them in between rehearsals and receptions and hours of Super Mario brothers with my "nephews" (six and five).**

 **Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

 ** _Thursday evening_**

"Our lives are weird."

Sam snorted. "You just figured that out?"

"No. I knew it. I just...sometimes it's weirder than other times."

"And today? A day we did what normal people do is what's making you think about how weird our lives are?"

"Yeah. I mean, we've got the "Mother of All", Alphas out of control, and a bunch of angels up to no good." Dean rolled his eyes. "And we just spent the day at the mall. How weird is that?"

"So if we'd spent the day killing vampires or burning corpses, it would have felt normal to you?"

"Exactly." Dean nodded then held up a finger. "Don't even lie. You can't tell me that today didn't feel weird."

"Well, yeah. Sure it did. We walked around a mall. Like normal people. Of course it felt weird."

Dean grinned. "Exactly!"

Sam laughed. "So you want me to call Bobby? See if he's got a case for us?"

"He hasn't called us so I'm thinking he's still drawin' a blank."

"Or maybe he's still pissed about the window."

"Or that." Dean nodded. He tapped a finger on the steering wheel, lost in thought for a moment. "So how many meals you think we've eaten in this car?"

"Seriously? What's up with you?" Sam shifted, arm resting on the edge of the open window. "Since when have you wanted to itemize our life experiences?"

Dean shrugged. It wasn't like he'd specifically decided to itemize anything. "I told you. I'm bored. Humor me."

"You were bored so we went to the mall. You're still bored?"

"We went to the mall because I wanted to stretch my legs. And yes. Still bored."

Sam took a deep breath and Dean could tell he wasn't annoyed. He was giving the question serious thought. Dean smiled because the fact that he could get his brother focused on something like this never ceased to amuse him. It had actually come in handy more than once growing up.

Dad had once given him a ten dollar bill in gratitude for occupying his brother. It had been a sweltering hot day as they drove across Nebraska and Sam had been making an utter nuisance of himself. They were both used to being in a car for long periods, but that day, Sam hadn't been easily contained.

It hadn't been a fun trip for any of them. They'd exhausted all their typical car games. I-spy, Bingo, 20 questions, and endless games of Hangman. Sam had learned all the Presidents, practiced his spelling and multiplication tables. Dean had read him all the comic books he had. Dad had even let Sam ride up front for awhile. Nothing worked for long. Nothing stopped the chatter or the boundless energy.

Dean had actually reached the limits of his considerable patience that day and strongly considered sitting on his brother. Then he'd asked Sam if he could write out the entire alphabet and think of the name of three animals for each letter. It had been a stroke of genius. Sam had sat in the footwell with his notebook on the back seat and puzzled over the challenge for the next two hours in blessed silence.

When they'd finally stopped for the night, Dad had gone out of the way in order to find a park. They'd eaten a picnic supper and let Sam run around for most of the evening. Dean had been presented with a ten dollar bill. He'd never had that much money to himself in his entire life.

Sam had slept like a rock and before they'd left the next morning, they'd gone by the park again. Dad had sat there eating breakfast and looking over newspaper articles for leads on a new case while he and Sam had chased each other around the park and raced across the monkey bars and down the slides. They'd been on the road for only a couple hours before Sam fell asleep in the back seat. It had been the most peaceful drive they'd experienced in a long time and from then on, whenever they were able to, they pulled off at a park to attempt to deplete at least some of the never-ending energy.

Dean peered over at his brother and saw the same deep concentration on his face that he'd seen when Sam was trying to think of an animal that started with a W. Even though Dean had thought of walrus, he'd kept his mouth shut in order to prolong the silence. Now, he wasn't so worried about prolonging the silence as he was curious as to what Sam was thinking.

"Well?" he prompted.

Sam shook his head, eyebrows raised. "I can't even take a wild guess. It's been _years,_ man. Our whole lives in this car. We've probably eaten more meals in the car than we have anywhere else."

"Maybe so." Dean settled more comfortably and said, "Anyway. If you wanna read your book, go for it."

"Nah. I'll save it for later."

Dean was dying to find out what the book was. He had no clue where Sam had picked it up, but he'd spent the last two nights reading it while carefully ensuring Dean didn't get a close look. It was amusing that Sam was trying to keep a secret from him. If he wanted to, Dean could have easily found the book. But they had an unwritten, semi-flexible rule about going through each other's stuff. Hunting for a bottle of Tylenol or even a bottle of whiskey was acceptable. Borrowing a t-shirt or socks in an emergency was permissible. But save those two exceptions, they stayed out of each other's gear. Living the way they did, privacy came at a premium.

It would have been simple to walk over and yank the book out of Sam's hands at any point, but Dean was enjoying the way he knew his casual questioning was making his brother nervous. It made the prospect of finally finding out what Sam was hiding all the more tantalizing.

"Dean." Sam sat up suddenly, pointing.

Following his gaze, Dean's heart sank. He shook his head. "No."

"Yes."

"Absolutely not."

"Dean."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Why not?" Sam asked, sounding far too pleased with himself.

"You know why not."

"You know you're gonna."

Dean shook his head, but he was already preparing to stop. "I'm not gonna."

"Please."

"Seriously? Please? Are you five?"

Sam grinned. "I'm polite."

"Whatever," Dean said, hating that he'd picked the route that wound up leading them through a tiny town that would, of course, be having a library sale. "You were at a bookstore earlier today. Why do we have to stop here?"

"Because you don't find one hundred year old books at a bookstore in a mall."

"Why do you need a one hundred year old book?" Dean continued to whine even though he'd been planning to pull over as soon as Sam had pointed out the sign for the sale.

Sam sighed like Dean was incredibly stupid. "You do realize most of the lore we know that keeps us alive and helps us kill things comes from hundred year old books. You think Bobby runs to the mall for the latest edition of _How to Gank a Ghost?"_

"Is that the illustrated guide?" Dean grinned, turning the car into the parking lot.

"Yes. It's the one with pictures. For idiots like you." Sam was the one grinning this time.

Parking the car, Dean turned the radio up then waved a hand. "Go."

"You're gonna sit in the car?"

"Yes. Have fun." Dean waved his hand again.

Sam studied him for a moment, then shrugged and got out of the car. He looked vaguely disappointed which left Dean sighing after the door closed.

Two minutes later, he got out of the car. He elbowed his way past a group of middle-aged women perusing cookbooks and headed toward Sam, who already had three books in his hands.

 _How does that even happen?_

Sam looked up as he drew closer and he seemed genuinely happy to see him.

Holding up the books, Sam said, "Alistair MacLean."

"Dude, we stopped for hundred year old books," Dean griped, although he grabbed the books out of Sam's hands and flipped them over to read the back covers. "You wanted paperbacks, you could've-"

"You can't find MacLean's books on the shelves in regular bookstores," Sam said, snatching them back.

"Yeah, yeah. Well at least they're ones we haven't read."

"I've read all of them." Sam was moving up the aisle.

Dean frowned. "Wait, what? When did you read all of them?"

"There was a library at Stanford."

"And you read books for _fun?"_ Dean raised his eyebrows. "I thought you were studying twenty-four seven and here you were sitting around reading adventure novels."

Sam smiled. "I had to take a break every once in awhile."

"Give me those back." Dean waved a hand.

"Don't lose them."

"I thought you already read them."

"Yes. And I liked them. Which is why you're buying them," Sam said, crossing to the next table of books.

"Wait, what?" Dean froze for a second, then caught up. "What do you mean _I'm_ buying them?"

"I'm out of cash."

"What makes you think I have any cash left?"

"Because I know how much you won the other night hustling pool," Sam said, picking up another book and flipping through it. "You only gave me twenty. And it's not like I haven't been here the entire time watching every penny you've spent. I know you still have forty-seven dollars and fifty cents."

Dean shook his head, yet again not sure if he was _disturbed by_ or _proud_ of how observant his brother was. He asked, "Well what did you do with the twenty I gave you?"

Sam stared at him. "Who paid for lunch and dinner yesterday?"

"I bought lunch."

"You bought lunch the day before." Sam handed him another book. "I bought lunch and dinner yesterday."

Dean frowned, trying to remember. "Didn't we eat at that diner with the pie-"

"Day before. Yesterday we had chicken. Drive through? You got a milkshake."

"Oh. Yeah." Dean had to admit Sam was right. "Man, I just wanna eat real food at a real table."

"Bobby'll make chili."

"I mean real food. At a real table."

Sam shot him a disbelieving look. "What's not real about Bobby's table?"

Dean huffed. "Fine. the table's real. And, sure, chili's food. I guess. But I want my own-"

He fell silent and Sam tilted his head. "Your own what?"

"M'own kitchen," Dean mumbled, hoping his brother wouldn't catch it.

Sam's eyes widened so it was obvious he _had_ caught it. Dean watched Sam's expression change from disbelief to amusement to understanding. He'd expected to get teased for the admission. But his brother didn't tease him.

"You know," Sam said, pointing toward the line where people were checking out, "I think that would be great."

"You do?" Dean asked, pulling out his wallet.

"Yeah. I get sick of eating fast food all the time. Even the diners get old."

Dean paid for the books and deposited them in his brother's expectant hands. They headed back for the car and he said, "We've probably eaten in more diners and little Mom and Pop restaurants than most people."

"We should've made a guidebook," Sam said, opening the door. He grinned over the Impala and added, "We could be rich."

Dean tilted his head, considering. Then he nodded. "The Winchester Guide to America's Best Diners."

"That's pretty good."

"Yeah?" Dean asked, getting behind the wheel.

"Yeah. I'd buy it." Sam pulled his door closed and started flipping through the books.

Dean started the engine and grinned.

* * *

 ** _Friday afternoon_**

"Let me drive."

"Sam, so help me if you say that one more time-" Dean's threat remained unfinished as he slammed on the brakes again.

Sam braced his hand on the dashboard and estimated there was an entire inch between the Impala's front bumper and the rear of the Prius in front of them. Dean was cursing but at least he wasn't blowing the horn.

 _Yet._

Traffic started moving again and, as Sam had expected, Dean accelerated faster than he should have. It was a good thing he'd left his hand braced on the dashboard or he'd have smashed head first into it. The whiplash was getting old. Sam gritted his teeth and wished for the hundredth time they hadn't decided to take the interstate. It was always a last resort. Neither of them liked traffic or being trapped in the middle of seven lanes.

But here they were. In the middle of seven lanes of Atlanta rush hour traffic. It was hot and sticky and miserable and it wouldn't take much more of Dean's road rage before Sam lost his patience. And his mind. He'd been trying to stay calm because _one_ of them needed to be calm. Dean had stopped being calm the instant he'd driven onto the interstate.

And that had been two hours ago.

"This is insane," Dean griped, hands tight on the steering wheel. The sweat was rolling down his forehead and he slammed on the brakes again. He cursed then said, "Get me out of here. Find me an exit."

Sam laughed. He couldn't help it. Dean glared at him and Sam tried to stop laughing. He really did. But it was difficult not to laugh when Dean was asking him to find an exit while they were walled in on every side by rush hour commuters and semi-trailers. There were exits. He was sure of it. And he didn't anticipate them being able to reach one for...oh at least another two hours.

Dean accelerated again and slammed on the brakes again.

"Listen, man, I know you're irritated, but you're gonna wind up getting us in a fender-bender if you-"

"I wanna bend some fenders." Dean nudged the gas pedal and Sam cringed.

 _Half an inch,_ Sam estimated. Half an inch between them and the Prius. He glanced out the side mirror and cringed again. Because the minivan behind them looked like it was climbing into the trunk. _This is not going to end well._

Sam kept his right hand braced on the dashboard and reached for the radio with his left. He turned up the radio and started running through the stations; desperate for anything that would distract his brother.

"Leave it off."

"What?" Sam raised his eyebrows and stared at his brother.

"Leave it off," Dean repeated through gritted teeth. "I can't...I just need to...Seriously. Isn't there an exit?"

"I'm sure there is, but it's like four lanes away and I don't think we're going to be able to get over."

Dean pounded a hand on the steering wheel and slammed on the brakes. "This was a terrible idea."

 _Yes, yes it was. And I think I mentioned that a time or two,_ Sam thought to himself but didn't dare voice his thoughts. Dean was on edge enough.

Sam glanced from the Prius' rear bumper to his brother and felt growing concern. Dean was beyond frustrated. Traffic was never something he handled well on a good day. This was not a good day. They came to a complete standstill and Sam relaxed to a point. He finally dared sit back and stop bracing himself on the dashboard.

"You hungry?" he asked, shifting so he could look in the back seat.

"Yes."

Sam was relieved. If Dean was hungry, maybe he could be distracted. "What do you want?"

"We got any of those donuts left?"

"Yeah." Sam struggled to reach the container. It had slid off the back seat during one of the abrupt stops.

They were still completely stopped and Dean turned to look at him as he stretched over the seat. Shaking his head, Dean asked, "What are you doing?"

"Trying to get the donuts. They wound up on the floor behind your seat."

"Well, get off your ass and get them," Dean said, his tone a little less frustrated.

The car still wasn't moving, but Sam wasn't sure he felt confident enough to move. He looked at his brother and said, "You gonna stay put while I get them or are you gonna slam the brakes again and send me through the windshield?"

"You break you buy." Dean waved a hand.

This time Sam was the one glaring. "If you would stop driving like a maniac and actually leave space between us and that guy's back seat, I wouldn't have to worry about breaking the windshield, now would I?"

Dean put the car in park and practically growled, "We're not going anywhere. Get the damned donuts."

Sam looked ahead and realized no one in any lane was moving. "Fine."

"You used to treat this entire car like a playground," Dean said, shifting closer to the window as Sam got on his knees and reached behind the seat. "You were over that seat all the time while we were on the road. Why're you acting so weird?"

"Maybe because when I was climbing over the seat as a kid we weren't stuck in traffic with you slamming on the brakes every two seconds. Dad didn't even bumper people like you do."

"Whatever."

Sam leaned down and finally got his hands on the box. Straightening, he hurried to sit down before Dean's moment of patience was exhausted. Holding the box up triumphantly, Sam said, "Here."

Dean looked happier than he had in two hours and picked out a donut. He took one and Sam picked out his own. For a moment things were calm although Dean did put the car into drive in preparation. And then the Prius moved an entire foot forward and Dean practically put the gas pedal to the floor.

And then he slammed on the brake.

Sam's donut went flying and hit the windshield, but at least he didn't face plant on the dashboard.

"Dean!"

Dean smirked and took a bite of his donut while Sam reached for his. Shaking his head, Sam said, "Will you please let me drive? You can take a nap in the back seat and when you wake up we'll be out of here."

"I'm fine," Dean said, mouth full of jelly donut. He inched forward and slammed on the brake again.

Sam sucked in a frustrated breath and debated continuing the argument or eating his donut. Deciding to hurry up and eat the donut before they wound up in an accident, Sam kept one hand braced on the dashboard again.

"Where's the Coke?"

"In the cooler."

Dean glanced over his shoulder, then licked jelly off his fingers and asked, "Where's the cooler?"

Sam finished his own donut, then peered into the back seat. "Huh."

"We didn't leave it-"

"It's probably in the trunk."

Dean stared at him in shock. "In the trunk? Why would you-"

"Dude, you packed the car not me. I was buying donuts. Remember?" Sam couldn't stop the smirk. "Why would _you_ put the cooler in the trunk?"

"I didn't think we were gonna be stuck in the car this long," Dean griped, accelerating then braking. And accelerating and braking again. "I need something to drink."

Sam rolled his eyes and said, "Fine."

Dean's eyebrows rose. "What do you mean fine?"

Sam reached for the door handle. "I'll get the cooler."

"You're not getting out of the car right now."

"Why not?" Sam waved a hand at the standstill around them. "I might as well get the cooler right now. We're gonna be in traffic for a long time. I'm thirsty too."

Dean tapped a finger on the steering wheel, looking around and considering. Finally, he relented. "Don't get squished between the bumper and that minivan. I don't need any dents in the bumper."

"Your concern is overwhelming," Sam said, opening his door. "If you or any of the rest of these idiots out here would leave any room between each other, no one would be getting any dents."

"Hurry up."

Sam got out and slammed the door wondering if he could just walk through the parking lot of the interstate and find a bar. He was more than ready to be out of the heat and away from the constant whiplash.

He hurried to the trunk because he didn't really want to get squished between the Impala and the minivan. People were looking at him with raised eyebrows, but he ignored them and got the cooler. There was exactly one foot of space between the minivan and the rear bumper and he wasn't eager to be standing there if the driver of the minivan decided it was time to follow Dean's example of hasty acceleration and abrupt stopping.

Hauling the cooler out, Sam slammed the trunk closed and hurried back to his seat. He put the cooler on the seat between them, closed his door and had his hand against the dashboard in the nick of time.

Accelerate.

Brake.

Sam sighed as they came to an abrupt stop again. Dean dug through the cooler and helped himself to what was still, miraculously, a cold can of Coke. Once he was fairly certain they weren't moving again for at least a few seconds, Sam pulled out another can and then settled the cooler on the floor in the backseat.

By the time they'd both finished their sodas, they'd moved one entire mile. Which was actually more progress than Sam had expected. The way Dean continued to ride the rear bumper of the Prius had Sam's jaw aching from clenching his teeth so much.

One more hasty, jerking stop and Sam's breaking point broke.

"Alright," he raised his voice, "That's it. You're done."

Dean looked at him in shock and Sam did something he'd never in his entire life done. He leaned over, put the car into park - risking life and limb to do so - and yanked the keys out.

His bold move stunned Dean to silence.

Seeing the dumbfounded expression on his brother's face kind of made the entire traffic jam worth it. Sam sat back against the door, keys tight in his hand in case Dean had any thoughts of taking them back from him.

When Dean's mouth opened up but nothing came out, Sam decided it was time to take the

next step. He opened the door and got out. There wasn't room between the front bumper and the Prius in front of them because his brother absolutely refused to allow more than two inches - at the most - of leeway between bumpers. A glance behind the Impala revealed the driver of the minivan had the same ideas about personal vehicular space as his brother did. Sam wanted to throttle them all.

Instead, he stormed to the rear of the car, slid across the Impala's steaming hot trunk, then wrenched the drivers' side door open. Dean didn't appear to be any less dumbfounded now than he had been when Sam had gotten out of the car.

"Move," Sam ordered, exactly one second away from physically shoving his brother out of the drivers seat.

Dean moved.

Sam got behind the wheel and started the engine. Traffic hadn't moved at all. He left the car in park.

"I should kick your ass for that," Dean remarked mildly, reaching for another can of Coke.

"Try me." Sam leveled a glare. "Please. Try me."

Dean's eyebrows rose. "Wow, Sammy, what's got a bee under your bonnet?"

"I'll give you one guess."

"Touchy." Dean took a sip of his Coke and surveyed the traffic jam. "This has to be the worst backup we've ever seen, right?"

Relaxing fractionally, Sam nodded. "I think so."

Dean opened the box and grabbed another donut. To Sam's surprise, the donut was offered to him instead of immediately being devoured by his brother.

"Thanks."

Dean grunted in response, and started eating his own donut. Sam smiled, then took a bite. The Prius crawled forward and Sam put the car into drive, but didn't move.

"Sam."

"What?"

"We're moving. Traffic's moving. Move."

"Traffic is not moving."

Dean waved a hand and Sam ignored him. The Prius crept forward a few more inches and Sam didn't move.

"What are you waiting for?"

"I'm waiting for there to be a reasonable and prudent space between me and that Prius. Then, and only then, will I move."

Dean groaned, leaning back and resting his head on the seat. "You're doing that thing."

"What thing?"

"That thing where you talk like you're in an educational video. I hate it when you do that."

"Yeah? Well I hate it when you drive like an idiot and slam on the brakes every other second. And when you tailgate. And when you-"

"Alright, alright. Point taken. Shut up and drive."

And it was at this point that Sam deemed the space between the Impala and the Prius to be

both reasonable and prudent. He gently applied the gas and then gently applied the brake a few seconds later.

Turning to his brother, Sam asked, "See the difference?"

Dean rolled his eyes and groaned. "This is a nightmare."

Sam smiled to himself. He wasn't exactly having the time of his life, but Dean didn't have a lot of patience on a good day. And today wasn't a good day.

"Dude, move-"

"Shut up."

"Sam-"

"I'll move when there's somewhere to go!"

Dean pointed. "Look. If you can nudge into the other lane, the next lane is moving. Go."

"Go?" Sam laughed. "There is no way I can get over there. Why don't you close your eyes and take a nap?"

"I'm not taking a nap and leaving you in charge of getting my Baby through this mess."

Sam raised an eyebrow as he, once again, gently moved forward then gently came to a stop; leaving plenty of room in front of him. "I'm not the one who has been getting up close and personal with that Prius."

Five more minutes of Dean's continual griping and side-seat driving and Sam couldn't take it anymore.

He turned on the radio and flipped through the stations until he found a rock station. It wasn't classic and it wasn't quiet but it was exactly what Sam wanted to listen to. Dean's hand reached for the dial almost as soon as his own hand moved away. Sam wasted no time in smacking him.

"Don't touch the dial."

"I'm not listening to-"

"I will hurt you," Sam threatened, shooting his brother a meaningful glare.

"Dude. This isn't music."

"Driver picks the music." Sam continued glaring. " _You_ shut your mouth."

Rendering Dean speechless and dumbfounded was always a pleasure. To have done it twice in one sitting made Sam incredibly happy. It was worth sitting in a hot car, not moving, and listening to rock music that irritated his brother.

He grinned, feeling very satisfied with himself. Traffic moved again and Sam pressed down on the gas only to slam on the brake as the Prius abruptly slammed on _its_ brakes.

The Impala kissed the Prius' rear bumper and Sam cursed.

Dean laughed.

* * *

 ** _Friday evening_**

There had been no damage. Not so much as a scratch or even a hint of a dent.

Which was the only reason he hadn't maimed or otherwise harmed his brother. The irony of Sam being the one to hit the Prius wasn't lost on Dean. And it had provided him with endless opportunity to harass his safety conscious little brother.

Sam had put up with it, but hadn't relinquished the keys or the radio. Dean had laughed, then complained and harassed him for a good ten minutes before deciding that even _he'd_ had enough. Climbing over the seat, he settled in the back and slept through the rest of the traffic jam.

He woke up when Sam honked the horn. This time, Dean had cursed and Sam had laughed. By the time he'd sorted himself out and managed to get out of the car, Sam had disappeared through the open door of their home for the night and sequestered himself in the bathroom. The shower was already running - water temperature luxuriously cold, no doubt - when Dean straggled inside. Sweaty and miserable, Dean turned the air conditioner up and flopped down on one of the beds.

He lay there for exactly thirty seconds before the boredom took over again.

Pushing himself up, he dug out the laptop and decided to do a little research on something that had been bugging him ever since they'd returned from the alternate reality where their lives were weirder than they were _here._

Dean searched for a few minutes, then finally found what he was looking for. It was freaky. Creepy. Disturbing, in fact. But it was also kind of hilarious. He was so engrossed that he didn't even hear the bathroom door open.

"What are you watching?"

"Nothing," Dean said quickly. Looking up at his brother, Dean slammed the lid on the laptop. Sam's hair was wet and he was dressed in fresh, non-sweaty clothes.

Sam wasn't buying it. "You were obviously watching something. And you don't want me to know about it. So."

"So?" Dean crossed his arms in challenge.

"So I want to know about it."

To his annoyance, Sam flopped down on the bed next to him and started reaching for the laptop. Dean shoved him away and kept the laptop on his other side, away from Sam's grasp.

"You know what?" Dean smiled, an idea dawning. "I'll show you if you tell me what you've been reading."

"Never mind." Sam started to move off the bed, but Dean grabbed his arm.

"Not so fast. I think it's a fair trade off."

Sam narrowed his eyes, obviously trying to decide if figuring out what Dean was watching was worth revealing what he'd been reading. The fact he was still hesitating told Dean that whatever he'd been reading had to be embarrassing.

Obviously Sam's curiosity got the better of him and he sat back down. "Fine. Show me what you're watching and I'll show you the book."

Dean grinned. "Here."

Sam opened the laptop and stared at the screen. "Is that?"

"Yeah."

"You looked up-"

"I did. _Days of Our Lives."_ Dean shook his head. "I can't believe it. But yeah. There's the guy."

Sam hit play on the video clip and Dean started to regret showing him because he started laughing almost immediately. It was surreal, Dean had to admit, watching the guy who, in a different universe, played... _him_ on a tv show.

"That is so weird." Sam's voice was awed.

"Right?"

"So weird."

They watched the end of the clip, then Dean closed the laptop and elbowed his brother. "Your turn."

Sam huffed in annoyance and said, "I don't know why it's such a big deal to you what I read."

"It's not," Dean said, grinning in anticipation. "I'm just interested because you've been so secretive about it."

"It's just something stupid I picked up at the motel we stayed at the other day."

"The one with the green bedspreads?"

"The one with the brown ones."

Dean wrinkled his nose. "You think they were _originally_ brown?"

Sam shuddered. "I don't even wanna know."

"They didn't look like they were originally brown."

"Can we please stop talking about the bedspreads?" Sam got off the bed and cast the dark blue bedspread a wary glance.

Dean held out a hand. "Book. Now."

He wiggled his fingers and waited as Sam dug through his backpack. Dean grinned. This was gonna be great. Sam looked more embarrassed by the minute which meant this was even better than Dean had thought. With a heavy sigh, Sam straightened and tossed the book. Dean caught it with his right hand.

He glanced down at it and started to laugh. It was _way_ better than he'd ever dreamed. Dean looked up at Sam and couldn't stop laughing. Sam was turning bright pink and glaring at him. Trying to contain his laughter, Dean looked down at the cover again.

"Seriously? This is what you've been reading?" Dean flipped it over and read the synopsis. "A trashy romance novel? Why are you reading a trashy romance novel, Sammy?"

"You're such a jerk." Sam's glare intensified and he crossed the room quickly. Yanking the book away, he said, "This is why I didn't want you to see it."

Dean shook his head. "Why did you start reading it?"

Sam muttered something, but his back was turned and he obviously didn't want to spit it out. Dean narrowed his eyes and asked, "Sam?"

"Because I was bored, ok?" Sam dropped the book back into his backpack and turned around, hands on his hips. He was trying to look angry but he just looked embarrassed. And mildly amused. "I was bored waiting for you to get back from the bar that night and...there wasn't anything on tv and it was there and I just-"

His voice trailed off and Dean started laughing again. He shook his head. "So I'm _not_ the only one who gets bored!"

"You're not the only one," Sam admitted with a smile.

"Ha! I knew it."

* * *

A week later, neither of them were bored. Because a week later, they were back in the thick of it, hunting monsters. The hunts kept coming one right after another and, every once in awhile, Dean would miss being bored. Every once in awhile, he would catch Sam picking up one of the novels purchased at the library sale. There was never time to read them and Dean could tell Sam missed being bored, too.

The good news, though?

They'd figured out the math. Run the statistics. Discussed the variables.

There were fourteen and a half weeks of boring in a year.

Dean smiled. He was already looking forward to the next one.

 _ **The End**_

* * *

 **You have to think the boys have a lot of days like these. We got to see glimpses in the episode "Baby" which was great. But you know there have to be many more days where they're driving around aimlessly in between things. :) And besides, they're brothers. I have one of those and we have had endless ridiculously pointless conversations. And lots of teasing and annoying and all that lovely sibling stuff. :)**

 **Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed a little humor and fun.**

 **Next up? A tag to Red Meat (because i couldn't resist. seriously, it was like catnip to me...or chocolate.) Stay tuned! :)**


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